


space will make it better, time will make it heal

by biochemprincess



Series: lights will guide you [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 12:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5497805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biochemprincess/pseuds/biochemprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, all you needs is a vacation with your friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	space will make it better, time will make it heal

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the song 'Take Me Home' by Jess Glynne. (You should listen to this song. It's incredible.)

_You can't change the past._

_There is no way to do it._

_Because the past is a constant, a fixed star._

_It has shaped you._

_But you can do something else with your past._

_Embrace it. Forgive yourself. Find absolution in your mistakes._

_And change your future._

 

_—_

 

"Pack some things. Bikini. Sun glasses. Couple of nice dresses and shoes."

Jemma just stares at Bobbi - Bobbi with her shit-eating grin and positive vibes and determination.

"What?"

"We are leaving the base."

"What? Is there a mission?"

_Now?_

"No, it's our time off. You'll also need sun blocker. Your skin looks sensitive."

It takes her far longer than she's proud of, to realize what Bobbi is talking about. Vacation.

A vacation with _her._

"No."

It's more reflex than a response she has actively thought about.

They can't do that.

Because she can't sleep alone at night. Because she is still a liability. Because she doesn't deserve this. Because wherever she goes, death follows.

Bobbi turns quiet, very serious. A dash of sadness crosses her features. "Simmons, if you don't want to go, I understand and we won't push you. But don't say no, because you think you don't deserve it."

She takes Jemma's hands gives them a soft squeezes. "Because you do. And we'd like to do something fun for once. Just for us."

"Who is we?" Jemma asks cautiously. It's not a yes, not yet.

"May, Daisy and moi. A ladies trip."

And there it is again, Bobbi's conviction to do something good. She has seen the dark sides of their line of work too, has lost too many people to count, has given up parts of herself.

So when she answers, Jemma agrees not only for herself, but for them too.

"Okay, I'm in."

 

—

 

"Where are we going?"

"Nope."

"You're not telling me?"

"Nope."

"Bobbi, tell me where we going."

"Nope."

"May!"

"Tell her."

"No." They cry in unison, like petulant children.

"Tahiti." May say and a knowing smile spreads across her face. It's funny, in a way things only are in hindsight, after you've survived the worst.

"It's a magical place." Daisy almost screams it into her face and Jemma smiles despite herself.

 

—

 

The thing is, they do it like real people. They drive to a busy airport, the closest to the base, and they get on a plane with real people, normal people. They even fly Economy, three seats next to each other and one across the aisle. They do it like the friends, like the family they are.

Jemma gets the window seat, Daisy next to her, basically vibrating with energy and excitement. Bobbi and May both have the aisle seats, their trained eyes on ever passenger around them.

The thing is, going on a holiday is one thing, but you never really let your guard down. Not when you know the ugly truth about the world you're living in.

Daisy drifts off to sleep soon after take-off.

But Jemma can't.

She just --- can't.

The exhaustion of the past weeks is branded deep into her bones, but it doesn't change the situation of her sleepless nights.

She's too wound up, like a taut bow string, ready to snap any second. She tries to get her breathing under control, some of the breathing exercises Andrew taught her, cross her mind.

But they are immediately drowned out by the noises of Lash killing the Hydra guards, the same sounds he must have made during the murders of the Inhumans. Blood rushes in her ears and she can hear her own screams in the dead of night again.

Jemma looks around, tying to find a way out of this situation. May's gaze finds her, over the sleeping form of Daisy and Bobbi, engrossed in a book. She breathes out, in and out, in a soothing rhythm and Jemma can't help but join in.

Time passes and all they do is breathe. Time passes and her heart rate slows down again. Time passes and when the stewardess asks her what she wants to drink, she can answer without a tremor in her voice.

 

—

 

"Holy ---"

"--- shit."

Jemma can only nod along to her friend's exclamations as words fail her. The beauty of the hotel room they're standing in can hardly be put into words. It is a huge bungalow, made out of wood, built directly into the sea. There is a comfortable living area with a dining table and four chairs. and two queen sized beds.

But the real highlight is the patio with a ladder into the ocean. You could jump straight into the ocean from their hotel room.

She is more than a little starstruck. "We're gonna live here? The whole time."

May nods and Bobbi grins like a Cheshire cat.

"We totally deserve this." Daisy says, flopping herself on one of the beds. "And we should cover the important question: Who wants to have the honour of sharing a bed with me?"

Bobbi points at Jemma. "Simmons. May and I have similar sleep schedules."

"So have I." Jemma notes, looking at Daisy. "Not that I don't want to share a bed with you."

"No offence taken."

"Sure, but Daisy isn't a morning person. You know how to deal with that kind of personality."

"I'm slightly offended now, Morse."

Jemma flops down on the heavenly soft mattress next to Daisy. "Don't fear, I love you."

"At least someone."

 

—

 

There are many huge pros to the private beach close to the hotel and Jemma knows, that this was all chosen on purpose. The bay is little frequented, only a few people and they're all friendly and quiet. There are at least three different escapes routes and a plateau to land a quinjet on. There is a bar with hot waiters who bring you cocktails.

(That's Bobbi's criteria.)

"What about Hunter?"

"It's okay to look. We're on holiday."

The water, of course, is another pro. It's turquoise, crystal clear and looks like it has been photoshopped. Jemma dips one foot into it, to test the temperature. Perfect.

She slowly walks into the water, baby steps. With her navel underwater, she starts to do a few gentle swim strokes. Her body feels weightless in the water, floating through space. She is sure she'll enjoy it here.

 

—

 

Jemma gets earplugs from the small drug store on the hotel area the second day of their stay.

She is not afraid of the ocean, not exactly, not anymore. She doesn't mind swimming in the sea, as long as her feet can touch the ground anytime. She even puts on Daisy's diving googles and watches the beautiful fish for a while. (The light sunburn on her back is prove enough of that.)

Rationally, she and the ocean don't have any problems with each other anymore. They're on good terms again. As much as they can be.

But her subconsciousness doesn't agree. The waves crashing against their bungalow are anything but soothing. She tries to blend it out, concentrate on her breathing, but it doesn't work.

She falls asleep eventually, the exhaustion of their travel pulling her into the land of the dreaming, only to wake up sweating, her nails digging into Daisy's upper arm. Jemma knows what she's doing - trying to pull her to the surface so they won't drown.

"Sorry." Her voice is a whisper in the dead of night, embarrassed by her actions.

"It's okay."

The second night, with earplugs this time, is easier. They're pretty great, all things considered, drowning out all the background noise. Jemma can't hear a thing.

She should be concerned, really, it makes her vulnerable. If anything were to happen, if there was an attack she wouldn't know. But she takes comfort in the presence of her teammates. Because she knows they'd protect her.

And so she allows herself to sleep.

 

—

 

The sun wraps her into a cocoon of warmth and serenity. Her body feels like a solar cell, powering her whole body with new energy. There's sand between her toes and salt on her skin and it feels like she belongs again.

Jemma doesn't know why exactly; but here, now, in the beach chair with sunglasses and no distractions, is the most grounded she has felt in a long time.

"May?"

"Yes?"

"Who pays for all of this?"

There is this small secretive smile again, a true May smile. "It doesn't cost as much as you think it does."

"Oh, I think it costs just as much as I think it does. And that's not exactly an answer."

"Coulson owes me - us. His credit card can take it."

"He'll write if off as an undercover op, won't he?"

"Exactly."

 

—

 

"Don't." It's the only warning May gives, but Daisy simply ignores it.

"Four 'May Tai', please."

Bobbi suppresses her giggles rather badly, Jemma has tears in her eyes. Given that it's their third round of 'May Tai's' their reaction is justified.

"This calls for revenge." May snatches the cocktail card and starts leaving through the pages. Neither of the three dare to interrupt her. Jemma can literally see the moment she finds something to use against them.

When the waiter returns with their drinks, she orders another round. "We'll take four 'Daisyquiri' and four 'Barbarella'."

"Rude."

They sit together way past midnight, with their drinks and bad jokes. The air is filled with the scent of candles, fruits and the unique smell of the ocean.

"What if we just stay here forever?" Daisy murmurs.

Jemma smiles lazily at her. Their problems feel so far away here, on this island. As if they don't even exist. But they do and they can only push it away for so long. But right now, they are here and they are alive.

Nothing is magically alright after a few days on a beautiful island. It doesn't work like that and Jemma's not naive enough to believe it. But it's a start, a point to begin again, where the wounds finally start to heal.

So she raises her cocktail glass and looks at the women on the table around, smiling, grateful for their presence. "To us."

 

—

 

_Because whatever happened, you deserve to survive._

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think about it. You can also find me @ mightyjemma.tumblr.com


End file.
